


Now it's hard to dance, but if you stick with me . . .

by leigh57



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh57/pseuds/leigh57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You ain’t never done a single thing I didn’t notice." The last few words are strained, so many things still dangerously close to the surface. "Never. Not once.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now it's hard to dance, but if you stick with me . . .

**Author's Note:**

> Just a super quick thing I wrote in response to this prompt from youwereneveraslicebitch on tumblr: _Daryl embarrasses Carol when he guesses her favorite sex position._
> 
> Such *huge* thanks to adrenalin211 for reading at the last minute.
> 
> The title is from 'Leave the Light On,' by Chris Smither.

"Can't believe we found a fuckin' door that locks," he whispers against the edge of her ear, the pads of his thumbs stroking soft lines up the inside of her wrists. He's hard inside her, rocking her body into the bed, rhythmic, and she's so focused on how good he feels that it takes a second for his words to register.

She grins a little and forces her eyes to focus on his face. "I know. It's-" She's almost amused by how out of breath she sounds. "Relaxing."

He smirks. "Relaxed isn't how I'm feelin'." The tip of his tongue wanders over her bottom lip. "But gimme a few minutes." And then he's kissing her again, soft and slow, scruff scraping her chin, his tongue touching hers in a way that makes everything inside her tighten.

But just as she's about to let herself get lost again, she hears footsteps on the stairs, mingled voices vibrating low off the walls. She stiffens, "Daryl, we shouldn't-"

He goes completely still and takes a long breath before he says, "Y'know I'll stop the second you say, but they ain't gonna come in here and I got no idea when we'll be anywhere near a real bed again." He rubs his thumb over the angle of her cheekbone and kisses her, gentle, before he murmurs, "Why don't you get on top? Last time we did this with you in my lap you came in about three seconds."

Heat washes up her chest and into her cheeks, flushing her whole face, but whatever momentary embarrassment she feels is instantly overridden by how goddamn _hot_ it is to hear him talk to her like this. She's achy everywhere, and all she can think about is how much she wants him to make it stop.

Because she knows he can.

_God, he can._

"Okay," she blurts out before she can change her mind, and in half a second he's sliding out of her and sitting up, shoving sheets out of the way.

"C'mere," he whispers, holding her hips as she lowers her body over his.

And he's right, damn him. Something about this angle is so _perfect_ , and she can't control the gasp that slips out the first time he pushes up. She presses closer, her thighs quivery where they tighten around him.

One of his fingers traces down the curve of her spine. "Just wanna make you feel good," he mumbles, before starting in with a smooth steady rhythm she has no chance of resisting.

She closes her eyes. "God, you-" He lifts into her again and she's right there. "Are," she exhales into his neck, choppy.

"Good." The low, raw vibration of pure desire in his voice is all it takes. She comes with her earlobe in his teeth, one of his hands on her neck and the other on the small of her back, his entire body drawing her into him as it happens. She feels him breathe her name and she grins, rocking against him a couple more times even though she can barely move with the satisfaction seeping through her nerve endings.

They stay that way for a few minutes, her head on his shoulder, just breathing each other in, over and over.

Neither one of them is even close to taking this for granted yet.

Eventually, they end up curled under the sheet and a light blanket (it's already getting cold again, the crisp bite of fall in the wind that whips around the corner of the house), still halfway entangled, her back pressed into the heat of his chest.

"We should find locked doors more often." She lifts his hand from where it's resting on her ribs and holds it to her lips, kissing the rough chapped skin of his knuckles.

"Every damn night, I wish." His voice is quiet, sleepy.

Swallowing, she makes herself say it before she overthinks. "How'd you know that me being on top would-" She ignores the blush can can feel reinvading her face. "Do it for me so fast?"

She's barely done speaking before she can feel him shaking his head against her hair, chest rumbling with low laughter. "Y'still haven't figured it out, have you?"

"Figured what out?" She squeezes his fingers between hers, savoring the joy of touching him.

"You ain't never done a single thing I didn't notice." The last few words are strained, so many things still dangerously close to the surface. "Never. Not once.”

Her tears appear out of nowhere. She’s not yet used to this version of him that just says what he thinks, honest, without filters or hiding.

And since she has no idea how to respond to the meaning behind his words (she knows it’s true, and the way it makes her feel inside is so unfamiliar that her mental dictionary can’t give it a name yet), she wraps his arm around her like a blanket and closes her eyes, listening to the comforting drip of the rain that just started up and the quiet sigh of wind in the trees as she drifts off with her hand wrapped warm in his.


End file.
